Chapter Nine

The sun crept over the horizon as Seros, or Kareth, or whatever his name really was, dropped off of his horse and stroked its snout. They had raced away from the town of Haxely, never pausing for a break, pushing their mounts until they were lathered and braying. Selene had held her tongue and followed the mysterious man the entire night, knowing that their horses were one misstep away from sending them both plunging to the ground in pain and possible death. Thoughts raced through her mind about this man that claimed to be the Lost Prince. Could it be true? she thought to herself.

Stories rarely spoke of what their hero looked like, at least not in a manner that truly depicted them. It was said that Kareth was handsome, that his face could have been carved by the gods own hands. Which made sense, for beauty goes hand in hand with power, and the gods knew this best of all. People also said that he was fearless in ways unnatural to the men of the Vint. Fueled by rage and fury and hate, he brought the hopes of peace and freedom to an empire that was anything but. She pondered, realizing that she had so many questions to ask him, but absolutely no idea where to begin.

“We will let the horses graze for an hour, and then be off again,” he said as he swung his shoulder pack off of his arm and onto the ground. “We will not be tracked until at least midday, I would think. Their scattered horses should see to that.” He smiled at her, an easy smile, a kind smile.

She looked at him for a long moment, questions settling at the tip of her tongue, but unwilling, unable, to leap off.

“I am sorry that I lied to you, Selene, but these days it becomes harder to tell friends from foes. The King’s treasury is vast, and gold shapes the minds of even the most disciplined and honorable men.” He paused, "and women," he added with a smile.

Selene nodded and dropped off her mare. “You are him then? You are Kareth?”

He chuckled at that. “That is an old name, but aye, it is one of my many.”

Conflict grew inside of her about whether she should feel excitement or fear at the sight of this man, this hero; this nightmare named Kareth. “I must admit, I never fancied a meeting with a real prince, lost or not.”

“I am a prince, I suppose, but not like any you were like to meet. This kingdom is rotten, its people full of piss and wind, and its lords and knights black to the bone. In that regard, I am no more a prince than you are. In Panthos, however, it was different. Your Silent King hated us for it, but he knew how dangerous the free folk could be. Bend the knee they did, but bend it out of respect and honor, not fear and greed. That is how the people of Panthos differed from these humble crows here in the north.”

Her mare joined the other horse to graze as Kareth sat beneath a small tree. He pulled out the dirk he had used in the inn and cleaned it off before he began sharpening it.

“Sit child. I know you must have questions.”

She sat there for a long moment watching him run a wet stone up his dagger before speaking. “Why did you help me? Certainly, you have troubles of your own. Why add a stupid slummard girl to your worries?”

He stopped sharpening for a moment and tilted his head to the side. “Is the world such that a man cannot simply help one in need without another motive?” He chuckled under his breath. “To be honest, child, I watched you the entire night. I was in the inn. Though, no doubt you did not notice. You had your hands full with the Butcher and his men. You are a rare breed, and I could see it. Scared, simple, and completely unaware, but a rare breed, nonetheless. You also possess courage, and the ability to adapt, which are two traits that I find exceedingly important for one’s survival. I spoke to that Grest about you, terrible fellow by the way, and not at all helpful, but he did end up assisting.”

“You were at the inn?” His reasons were still not clear to her.

“That I was. You see, lords and knights see what they want to see, nothing more. I was in a simple leather jerkin and a woolen cloak with no visible arms on my belt. So, to a valiant knight, I was but a hand, or a beggar, neither of which interest them in the least. But my eyes can see them, be sure of that. I had been tracking Sir Veran for days, and finally caught up to him at your inn that very night. As it so happens, I suppose you are the reason Sir Mickan is dead and Sir Veran is still alive.” He dismissed her pained face with a flick of his hand.

“You see, I had planned to do the Butcher that night as he lay passed out in a cot sleeping off his wine, but he had other plans. His eyes had found you. I have seen that look before in many a man. I knew at once that there would be no sunrise to greet you. Do not ask me why, for I cannot understand it myself, but something told me not her, he will not take her, and I suppose I listened. I watched him after you were sent off, drinking and gossiping with his men about plunder and nonsense. It was nearly daybreak when he stumbled to old Grest and asked which room be yours.

“Good old Grest lied though, which he was right to do. I planned to free you on the morrow. Grest had agreed to it himself, for a nominal fee of course, but I told him I would buy no girl that had spent even a minute in the arms of the Butcher, assuming you would have even returned. The old bastard agreed, reluctantly I admit, but he agreed. I am afraid I am the reason your friend Tira was ravaged so, and it pains me to say it, but I fear there was no other way.”

His face was written in compassion, and he continued sharpening his small knife. “I meant to kill him that morning, but his squire came to him early and they sent off on a raiding party. No doubt word reached them that I was near, with the slaying of Sir Fenley only a few leagues away. In the confusion he was gone, and I was met with long looks and pressing questions by those that remained. I watched you the rest of the day to make sure no harm came to you, but when they returned, I was forced to take to the woods. I am a fighting man, but one to fifty is stout odds, even for me.” He looked at her with serious, sincere eyes.

“How did you know that I would escape and run into the forest?” Selene felt tears come to her eyes as she remembered the smell of the Butcher when he attempted to take her.

Kareth sighed solemnly. “Once I was in the woods, I waited for a chance to come back in, but I could not risk being seen again, especially after the questions I met by fleeing earlier in the day. I did what I could from a distance, and then I heard the hounds and hooves of hunting men. I circled around the forest until I was in your path and decided that the only way we would get away was if you stopped blubbering through every tree and branch that the forest stuck out in your way. And the rest, I suppose, you know.”

She was shocked by how honest he was, and by the fact that he had been in the inn the entire time and she had never seen him. Perhaps he really was a Shadowdancer. “What is it you plan to do now? Surely the Lord of Bondary will send out every horseman he owns and scour the eastern watches until he has found us and posted our heads upon his gate.”

“Lord Borlay is as craven as he is foolish. He will no doubt send out riders and trackers a plenty, but he will never suspect that I am moving west and north, into the Ferly Ranges and to Adremia and Garr.”

Her stomach dropped again. “We are to climb more mountains?”

“The prospect is not welcoming, I know, but it is necessary. He will expect me to make for the coast, to Brayford, in hopes of catching a ship. I intend to stay in the kingdom though, for there is but one place that King Maras sleeps each night. You are welcome to tag along, of course, but I cannot guarantee your safety. Sometimes I hold ill company.”

She thought about that for a moment. “How is it that you travel alone now? The Kareth I have heard stories about won many great victories against the Vint. Alone, what army can you hope to defeat?”

Kareth chuckled at that. “I need not defeat any army, my dear. I only need to separate head from body of one man. It just so happens that I know exactly where he is seated.” Selene shot him a confused look, but he continued with only a slight pause. “What you say is true. Before, I rode with honorable fighting men who were both loyal and fearless, and it is also true that we won many battles against the armies of the Vint. Yet, year after year, despite our constant victories, my men tapered off. Before I knew it my friends were being captured and killed, and I took a step back and really thought about what was happening. It was then that I realized that it was a war that we could not win, not in the way that we were fighting it. And now…well; now I have adopted a new style of fighting these wretches, and I rather like it. Even now, in such a short time, the empire shivers with fear as their King bars himself deep inside his keep."

“But he has loosed the empire’s knights upon the land in search of you,” Selene stated, traceable amounts of concern laced her voice.

“Indeed he has, and they will search for me, far and wide, but return empty handed nonetheless. The Silent King cannot afford to place his armies in force anywhere on the continent. He knows how that can turn out.”

Selene did not fully understand but nodded anyways. “What will you do next?”

Kareth smiled at her. “Only time will tell, my dear. Only time will tell.” He clapped his hands and stood up. “Plenty of time for stories on the journey, Selene, come now.” He tossed the bag over his shoulder and whistled for the horses. Once ahorse, they brought them to a slow trot and Selene smiled as the wind kissed at her face and gently tossed her hair.

“Would you tell me your story, sire? I could die tomorrow if I knew the truth of what happened to you and your people. I have heard stories, true enough, but a lowlife knows that the truths of these are few and far between.” The prospect of a firsthand account of the life of Kareth was indeed heart stopping. Selene had never wanted anything more.

Kareth looked back at her and smiled. “You may call me Seros, or Kareth, or anything but sire, darling. And yes, it would be my honor to tell you my tale, though I hope that it does not disappoint or turn your heart against me, for it is not one that would make an honorable man proud. That is the gods’ honest truth.”

She did not know what to make of that. “I would hear it all, if it pleases you.”

He nodded. “We travel to Adremia and it is at least a week’s ride on the long road, but probably a moon’s turn, for we must punch through the mountains. I suppose you could hear my story in its entirety. I have to say, you will be the first to have heard it from mine own lips. Some of the tale took place before I was born, and in those instances, I can only tell you the second-hand accounts from my mother, and from my cousin, Liras, about what truly took place. And some of it, I fear no one will ever know.”

The prospect of his tale excited her beyond explanation. She looked at him expectantly as they rode side by side through the needled forest.

He took a deep breath and began speaking. “I am the Prince of Lilanth and Father of the City of the Moon. I am the King of Panthos and rightful heir to the Throne of the Vint. I am but a humble servant of an enslaved kingdom, and ruler of a bastard nation. I pray that the gods give me strength to tell all that is true, and I hope that you will forgive me when I am finished.”